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I warn the marauder dragging plunder, chaotic, rich beyond all rights: he'll strike his sails, harried at long last, stunned when the squalls of torment break his spars to bits.
Aeschylus
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Aeschylus
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Elefsina
Æschylus
Aeschylos
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Ye waves That o'er th' interminable ocean wreathe Your crisped smiles.
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Who, except the gods, can live time through forever without any pain?
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The force of necessity is irresistible.
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Old men are always young enough to learn with profit.
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We must pronounce him fortunate who has ended his life in fair prosperity.
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The field of doom bears death as its harvest.
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Old men are children once again a dream that sways and wavers into the hard light of day.
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Against necessity, against its strength, no one can fight and win.
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No bribes. Nothing that passes under the roof of a temple Or under the roof of the mouth, can appease heaven's anger Or deflect its aim.
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The adulterer dies. An old custom, justice.
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In the lack of judgment great harm arises, but one vote cast can set right a house.
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The tongue of slander is too prompt with wanton malice to wound the stranger.
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Unions in wedlock are perverted by the victory of shameless passion that masters the female among men and beasts.
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For Hades is mighty in calling men to account below the earth, and with a mind that records in tablets he surveys all things.
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But still the block of Vengeance firm doth stand, and Fate, as swordsmith, hammers blow on blow.
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This is the law: blood spilt upon the ground cries out for more.
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